Jane (thirdjane) wrote,
Jane
thirdjane

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I can't sleep. I'm frustrated. There's never any silence in my home anymore. The televisions scream over each other; my nephew isn't controled; phones are always ringing, or chiming, or screaming.

The minute I close my bedroom door, the cat starts yowling, and if I let him in he complains till he's let out. It's the little things.

I can't focus. I stare at crossword puzzles, knowing I know the answers to them, I just can't find them in my head. I pick up books just to read half a page and put it down, forgetting that I ever picked it up at all. Even at the farm, I mix up pony names when children ask. I never mix up pony names.

Casey's out of control. He and Jen spend hours fighting, because she can't control him. Or won't. He's either screaming, attacking, or pouting. She lazes about the house, and after working all day I come home to clean up after her. In three days she hasn't left the house, or washed the dishes. He throws a tantrum because he doesn't want to get dressed at three-thirty in the afternoon and she, without pulling her eyes from her video game, simply mumbles, "Do it. Or I'll... whatever. I'll think of something later." It's a direct quote. He threw a hissy fit when I took him to DQ, and after he scratched me for the fourth time, I gave him a hard smack and threw his ice cream away. The place went silent and I couldn't have cared less. It frustrates me more than anything else that he'll sob and apologize in one breath, and in the next say you're a "Stupid Idiot" and he "Wishes you were dead."

He only acts up when he spends time with his mother, and it's a horrible thing to say, but she either needs to step up, or walk away. I'd be fine with either. In the past week, these have been his bed times: 10:00PM, 11:30PM, 10:15PM, 1:10AM, 10:45PM, 10:30PM, and 9:15PM tonight (Because of the DQ incident.) He's eight years old.

I get stir-crazy in the summer. I don't sleep well in the heat, and it's evident. I drink coffee by the iced gallon, and try to bury myself in ice cream. It doesn't work too well. I lay in bed, under a cool cotton sheet, and watch the celing fan blades spin. I lay awake until the televisions stop blaring out commercials from the SPEED network.

I don't consider it insomnia, because I'm sure I could sleep perfectly well if everything would just quiet down for twenty minutes. If the lights would turn off for half an hour. If the cat would stop meowing, the crows would stop screaming, the racoons would stop squealing. If the world would just stop talking for a day or two.

Then I could sleep. And I wouldn't be frustrated.
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